breath by breath

MELITA

In true facets, Melita hadn’t actually looked at which platform they were rising upon. Where it took them would remain a mystery for the next few minutes, as she glanced between shared hands and the unfurling of her bingo board, casting shrewd and furrowed brows at the remaining squares. She hadn’t though of the possibility of neither of them winning. Maybe they stayed until someone did, or it’d be a best out of whatever number scenario.

Or perhaps her mind should be occupied on the fun, on him, on the aspects of them, rather than the silliness.

A combination, maybe, as the door dinged and the rest of them stepped off into a wide open menagerie of color and lush greens. “Ooh. Was this the spriggan stop?” Her mouth formed another round ‘o’ as they took in the sights and sounds; arrays of birds cawing in the distance, signs pointing in various directions of gardens and plantlife reaching towards decadent and wild canopies. She was reminded of both the Greatwood and Oerwoud, half expecting labyrinthine paths or trickles of water to unfurl before them. “Which way?” she permitted via choice, unless he wanted her to give in to the next potential and unwinding impulse.

Though, already partially distracted, she let out another gasp and reached for her stickers with a free hand. “Moushrooms!” came on a wild call, bending downwards to point at the little ones running alongside a fairy, Fae-esque portion of their enclosure. Thereafter, she placed her bingo proportions on the ‘tiny little babies you’d overthrow a nation for’ section.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Shot through the heart and the soul
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting

He’s deeply studying his own card as they rise, features pinched in a quiet count as he sketches out possible routes to victory. He keeps them on the back of his mind, eyes growing ever more keen for the remaining squares that could vault him into the lead. Ultimately, the prize is the experience of doing this with her, but he’d happily and mercilessly crush her in the process if he could. He expects nothing less from her in return.

The lurch of the platform arriving lifts his attention back up. His gaze sweeps the new area that opens up to them, as much with genuine curiosity as scouting for a square filler. ”Yeah, it should be,” he says in delay, focus swiveling back her way. ”I think there’ll be a lot to see here,” he admits, which is not that the ocean level hadn’t been teeming, but that maybe the creatures here were more apt to be seen, and more likely to not be immediately consumed by something larger.

”Humm, no clue,” he admits with a shrug after glancing between the two paths. ”If I had to guess, I’d say Greatwood.” He steers them thusly, or begins to, but the quick gasp alerts him at once and his attention rounds upon the source. He follows suit with her, keeping to her side and crouching low to admire the bouncing babies as they scurry, clamber, and hop around each other. ”Mm, Goose loves to eat these.” Which is to say, Iskra would not slot them into the same square as she has.

Some doors will always be closed
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot

MELITA

Greatwood inspired a whole new level of possibilities, and while her mind swarmed with the potential, his comment slid through her mind. It concocted another gasp, though not as delighted this time, and a light smack on his upper arm. “Don’t you dare,” she hastened, trying not to imagine Goose running around gobbling the little moushrooms up like they were just a paltry snack. Offended on their behalf, she huffed and backed out of her crouch, shaking her head. “Good luck little ones. Don’t let Goose ever find you.”

Pretending like she hadn’t been other animals’ own tempestuous storm coming their way and obliterating everything in her path, she scurried back over to trail markers and signs, breezily going through names – striving to find titles and frameworks that would inevitably give her an edge when it came to the bingo board. And amusements, naturally. “Had enough of banshees for a while,” she murmured, loud enough to be in a stage-whisper situation for Iskra alone. “Jack has a Cat Sith…,” pondering, and looking back and forth at her card (not even bothering to hide her motivations at this point), she ended up segmenting on the potentials of a blackened beast. Beaming back up at him with only the mere air of a conspiracy, she grinned. “What about the Shadowfangs?” Or, if they had any fortune at all, the Starwhales, but she kept that one at the back of her mind. If that was the case, she could make her own karma and kismet. She’d done it before.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Shot through the heart and the soul
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting

The quickfire strike takes him off guard, not expecting such a valiant defense of the tiny creatures. Given all her romping through the lairs of large and terrible beasts, it should be no surprise that she is drawn to the small and fragile beings that pose no threat, nor any means to be obnoxious (like the Echo Sharks). ”Owww,” he complains in theater, rubbing his arm with the curled hand of his bingo-card grip, the board flapping up and down in tempo with the faint bob of his umbrellaed head.

Unable to help himself, he lowly tosses out his own departure on the heels of hers, clearly having learned nothing from her assault. ”Eat ya later!” He’s at least braced for retaliation this time, though he feigns like there’s nothing amiss as he rises and moves with her.

”Cats always seem so smug,” Iskra remarks with a pull to his features as she mentions the Cat Sith, an unsurprising addition to Jack’s side, to be honest, from what he knows of the Captain. ”And they are too unpredictable.” Begging for pets one minute, clawing you the next. It’s no wonder Ludo favors them.

Meandering further down the aisleway and glancing at exhibits as they pass, he brightens for two reasons. First, ”shadowfangs are fantastic,” and not just because they’re dog-like, or perhaps yes entirely that reason. The other, is because he’s just spied his next bingo square. ”Aha, girl’s feet hurt from wearing too big of heels!” Ahead of them, a woman is striding barefoot, her shoes slung over her shoulder on a finger, the long heels clacking together.

Some doors will always be closed
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot

MELITA

In hindsight, the umbrella hats had been an excellent accompaniment to her plans, because as she watched his bob up and down on top of his head, she couldn’t quite stifle the loud, bright laughter, even as he groused and complained. Pretending not to hear the last remark, she still rolled her eyes, not expecting to be a valiant defender of moushrooms today, tilting her head and listening to the rest of the alterations and decisions. “Isn’t that what makes them grand?” she grinned in response; pretending she was not wholly smug and unpredictable at times. “I like ‘em because they don’t seem to care what anyone else thinks. Or wants from them.” Independent and aloof; noncompliant and haughty; she wouldn’t be making any distinctions there either.

With shadowfangs selected in proper order, she granted a fast and firm nod, already beginning to take a rampaging step in that direction, when Iskra announced another slot for the bingo board. Her glance went rapidly in the direction of said girl and heels, wincing outwardly for the plight of looking cute in a place that was far too vast to comply with the endearing fashions; still, she giggled as she placed another sticker down. “That’s a shame.”

Though…she noticed if she went diagonally…she only had two more slots that could fill the part of the card’s line. And then she’d win. Suddenly hugging it very close to her chest, she leaned over to pry and see where his situation was at as more woods unfurled and howls rang in the distance.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Shot through the heart and the soul
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting

A chuckle slips free when she admits to admiring what he considers the worst parts of the beasts. "I dunno," he offers back, just as equally surprised as she had been to find himself championing (albeit int he opposite way) an animal today. "I feel like they lie. They act like the don't care, but they're always conveniently around when you're going room to room or doing work that doesn't include them. It's all a front." He doesn't hate them, but in comparison, he'll take a dog any day. "I just kinda want a buddy with me who isn't afraid to be himself, and is dependable." Goose had saved him in so many ways.

Distracted from the debate that had somehow manifested off a side comment, and truly he has no skin in the game, he proudly applies a sticker to his board after his find. It's around this time he notices the furtive way she's hunched over her board, and an accusing gasp rings out immediately. "You're close!" It's thrown out like an insult, his eyes wide and disbelieving that she's pulled ahead. His still feels like a smattering, like you could possibly turn it into a constellation if you crookedly drew a few lines.

"You're going down," he informs, hiding his own board from her with a sudden need to maintain an edge he doesn't even have. He keeps it's face pressed to his chest, head on a swivel as they continue to walk, the unusual creatures containing far less of his focus now as he instead surveys and prods through the crowd with the demand for someone to do something fucked up.

Some doors will always be closed
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot

MELITA

Her brow arched at his insinuation of cats lying, her chin going upwards in defense of said animals – maybe she felt like they were kindred spirits, though she wasn’t angry, the pretense of fanning the flames for fun lingered there, in the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in mock affront, then a low gasp to signify further. “Who says they aren’t dependable? What if I ever get a cat shift then, hm?” Though, she was fairly certain she’d be able to drive both Iskra and Goose into a frenzy at such a notion, so, the thought pressed further into her chaotic little mind as they traveled, brain already concocting a scheme about tripping people down stairs.

His accusation made her preen, but then hide and tuck it away again. “Ammm I?” but then he tried to sneak his out of her eyesight too, and then she postured a very un-ladylike snort. “I think you’re the one going down.” The sole reason to win had been a choice of food; but now it seemed to contain much more (honor or glory or spite or something like that), to the point where she began to scurry wildly ahead, laughter on the wind, hoping to spot what she’d intended all along.

The shadowfangs were there, amidst the mottled foreground, all Stygian and neat. She allowed for a moment of innate fondness of wild, untamed creatures and all their ruinous potential, before she began watching the canines like a hawk, hoping one of them was sizing up the toddlers along the crowd.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Shot through the heart and the soul
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting

He isn’t surprised that she defends them further, but his brows rise when she challenges their dependability of all things. That quandary is lost the moment she poses another one, and a low laugh leaves him as he holds up a palm in surrender. ”You would make a fantastic cat,” he informs her cleanly, and the resemblance of some traits is already uncanny. ”Largely because I wouldn’t dream of keeping you corralled in my house.” Doing so with Goose is already effort enough. ”And I already know you’ll take a swipe when I walk by.” He grins, the suggested swipe potentially more than one with claws out.

The idea is lost to the potentials for victory though, and he’s already racing onward, her taunt rising behind him as he scuttles. Unfortunately, everyone here is doing very boring things, like reading the signs and calmly walking around.

The motion of dark, swift and elegant, absorbs Iskra’s attention for a time though as the shadowfangs appear. He’s still standing there, stock still, when Mel appears. ”Think I can rouse them into a howl?” he asks, glancing from them to her with a glint of mischief, the other game momentarily forgotten for this new one.

Some doors will always be closed
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot

MELITA

Unbothered if one should take pride in being called a potentially fantastic cat, she gloated just the same at the complimentary exasperations of being an uncontrolled force. Raising her chin in defiance once more, her seditious smile gleaned at the prospects; Iskra knew enough that she wasn’t to be contained (feral, as it were, and she would’ve torn apart his furniture without a singular thought), and she already took swipes when it wasn’t necessary at all. “You know me so well,” she granted instead, pleased; before the next round of ridiculous antics began their initial unwinding.

The people in this section do happen to be very dull; perhaps this was the late-morning crew who shuffled in, half-tired and barely keeping their eyes open. Children appeared to be under control, adults were handing each other coffees, making gestures or pointing towards the predators nearby with calm, controlled mannerisms. Booooring.

Still, she could see one of the shadowfangs lingering closer to the enclosure, silent and stoic gaze pinpointing on a toddler waving at it. Would that count? Surreptiously, she reached for her pocket full of stickers, trying to place one on her board before he could notice.

Though Iskra was enough of a distraction, and she gave a matching and encouraging, wolfish grin. “Please do. We can see who is the loudest.” Might wake some of the other occupants up too.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Shot through the heart and the soul
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting

It doesn't take much to encourage him into something ridiculous and wild, least of all if it's coming from her. He has ever delighted in performance for the sake of others, especially for an outcome of lightheartedness, knowing full well just how heavy this world can be if you let it (and even when you don't).

Oblivious to her affinity for the taste of pumpkins today, he smirks back in response and squares his shoulders back. One hand slips into his pocket, the other holding his game board at his side, limp as he drifts down internally to find the core of the wolf. His umbrella hat does not suit the intense aura he gathers, but it does assist with the humor of it all. Pulling in a deep breath, he suddenly tips his head back and lets it out in a loud, surprisingly well-practiced, howl. In his pocket, his one hand rubs at his static-inducing cloth, and he transfer the shock of it through the metal railing and down to anyone touching it. An addition of jolted surprise to really make people feel his howl, and the shadowfangs with them.

It's nowhere near as good as Goose's, or the wolves, or these mysterious creatures of dusklight. It's enough though, and the exhibit launches into it's own concert of eerie calls. Satisfied, Iskra ends his, grinning from ear to ear. It is enough of an excitement to trigger the beast to pounce towards the edge of it's habitat, where the child is still toddling, unsure of what's going on but loving it.

Some doors will always be closed
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot

MELITA

She watched, placing her hands and bingo board behind her back in faux innocence, lightly resting them as if only there for the entertainment. With a quirk of her brow, she waited, eyes flickering and striving to catch any small movement he was mustering. She took half a breath though when the shock of the lightning rambled through, taking one step back when that age-old apprehension rippled through her, fighting it down with a few rapid heartbeats and deep breaths.

But it seemed to have worked. Several backed away as the spark rippled through the railing, and then there was the howling itself. Melita used the opportunity to render herself back into normalcy and pilfer the anxiety of imminent death into something not earth-defining or shattering, grin forming as he howled and people stared and the beasts did much the same – until they all started echoing together. If there were any Attuned nearby it must’ve been an overwhelming feeling, coinciding with so many predacious souls intertwining in their rapacious edges. “Gods, you are ridiculous,” she granted with a generous pat to his ass, before she was joining in, though not nearly as loud as himself, and despite all her of her quirks and determination, was drowned out by the eeriness of the shadowfangs themselves. “But very impressive,” granted with a wink.

Shaking her head and laughing just the same, while others rushed forward, she did place the sticker upon her card, content that one emboldened look from the cretins towards a toddler at the forefront was enough of an edge. Shoving it down into her pockets quickly, she beamed back up at him. “All right, where to next?” Because if she had any say...she'd be steering them right towards where she could win.

[FIN]

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight